


Legally John

by grimmfairy



Category: Legally Blonde Series (Movies), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Friendship/Love, Harvard University, Law School, Legally Blonde, M/M, Professor Moriarty - Freeform, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Slow Romance, Unilock, Yes or no?, john is really smart, lestrade is on trial, moriarty notices john too, possible smut later?, sherlock starts to notice john, sherlock tutors john
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 19:53:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1481917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmfairy/pseuds/grimmfairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Legally Blonde Johnlock story: John Watson is Elle Woods, Sherlock is Emmet, Moriarty is the creepy professor. Their characters and personalities have been somewhat altered to fit my own needs, but the story will be similar. </p><p>John Watson, a previously directionless college student, goes to Harvard Law where his ex-girlfriend also attends. He didn't go there to get her back, though. Really he didn't. </p><p>Sherlock Holmes, the aloof and foreign teaching assistant, writes him off as a typical poor student relying on scholarship that won't make through freshman year. But John begins to surprise him with his intelligence and problem-solving skills. And then there's Moriarty, the professor that seems to hate John and yet always looks at him. </p><p>With the trial of the year looming on the horizon, John and Sherlock are thrust into a world where they must learn who to trust and who to love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Day

"John?" Mary's voice found him over the hustle and bustle of the gathering class. John winced, his gut dropping to his shoes. He obviously was not nearly as prepared to see his ex-girlfriend as he had imagined himself to be. "What are you doing here?"

The sickly sweet tone of her voice was the same as he remembered after spending his last summer avoiding her and studying up to be ready for his 1L year at Harvard Law School. Her large toothy smile flashed at him as she approached the smile she saved for people she didn't particularly want to see but felt obligated to speak to. John forced a smile of his own, accepting a one-armed hug and a quick peck on the cheek from lips he had once loved.

"Hello, Mary. I'm here because I got in," John said simply, still smiling. Mary's eyes flashed with surprise.

"Oh. Well congratulations. I thought you were thinking about joining the Army," Mary's tone made it clear that's where she thought he belonged.

"I decided to try my luck here," John answered. "Class is about to start. We should get to our seats."

"It's good to see you, John," Mary said, handing John a card with her new phone number on it. "Let's catch up after class."

John nodded tightly and made his way to the other side of the room where his assigned seat was at the end of the room by the door, thankfully far away from Mary. He hated himself for the way his stomach still fluttered around that woman. He sat heavily and pulled out his old, battered laptop. It had certainly seen better days. A used copy of the textbook was placed next to it.

"Here on scholarship, are you?" A rich baritone voice asked from his side. John turned, startled and knocked his book to the ground. At least, that's where it would have gone had long fingers not reached out and grabbed it deftly out the air. "Careful with that, you're going to need it."

"Sorry, I'm sorry," John reached for his book and managed to place it back on the desk at a better angle. He felt uncomfortable under the searing gaze of the other man, like all his secrets were being told. He had black hair, pale skin, and was wearing a purple dress shirt and black slacks with such ease that John doubted he ever dressed any differently. "How did you know…?"

It was at this moment that the doors to the classroom swung open, cracking against the walls and silencing the room. A man stood in the door frame wearing an impeccable suit with a blood-red tie that seemed to accentuate the aura of power radiating off of him. John turned to ask his companion who he was but found that the tall man was striding confidently toward the older man.

"Ah, Professor Moriarty. Right on time," The man handed the professor a clipboard. "These are the students that during my preliminary sweep of the room are unlikely to pass."

"Thank you, Sherlock," Moriarty answered in a smooth tenor that reminded John of antifreeze. Sweet, but deadly in large doses. "I will be sure to allocate my resources to the more promising students then."

John kept his eyes on this Sherlock standing with Moriarty. He was obviously the teaching assistant for this class. Above all though, John had seen that clipboard. It had been blank.

"Now, students," Moriarty strode purposefully to the front of the classroom. He was shorter than Sherlock by a few inches but more obviously muscular. A sense of danger followed him, leaving most of the students wide-eyed and whispering amongst each other. "This is first level Criminal Law. When I say first level, do not mistake it for easy. It is the first level that you must pass to become a lawyer. Fail my class, and you will fail in your career. Fail my class, and you might as well just…" Piercing eyes met John's. "…go home."

John shivered. Something about this new professor gave him a bad feeling that none of the others had. Moriarty was the best criminal trial lawyer around, and he had never lost a case. Rumor had it that he often took on first year students as interns during cases to help manage the workload, and he always had a case to work on.

"Now, first things first," Moriarty said in a sing-song voice. "This is my assistant, and soon to be partner at my firm, Sherlock Holmes. He is not your tutor, your friend, or your ticket to a good grade. He is my spy. He will help me weed out the worthless and point out the strong. Should there be a need for me to take on first year interns this year, he will help me choose them. And don't bother trying to get on his good side. He doesn't have one."

Sherlock, for his part, looked bored to John. Mary looked positively vicious as she gazed upon those she now considered competition.

"Now, let us begin," Moriarty clapped his hands together, making some students jump. "Hypothetical question: A potential client is accused of stealing jewelry and other valuables from the old woman he works for as an in-home nurse but they cannot be found in his apartment. John Watson: Would you take the case?"

John swallowed nervously.

"Is he guilty?" John asked quietly.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Moriarty feigned cupping his ear to hear better. "I thought you just asked if he was guilty." The class turned their eyes on john who was beginning wish he could just disappear in the woodwork. "Mr. Watson, what you have failed to comprehend is that it is not your job to determine guilt, but to prove innocence whether or not it is there. Mr…Moran. Same question."

Mary smiled cattishly at the man sitting next to her as he started to speak.

"This is an easy case. She's old, most likely bedridden at least for a good part of the day to need a live-in nurse. If the old woman can't prove theft, it would be easy to point at her deteriorating mental health as a culprit for these delusions about her loyal and gentle caregiver." Moran shot a glance at John momentarily. "Open and shut. My client wins, the old woman lands in the home."

"Very good, Mr. Moran. This type of case happens every day, all the time," Moriarty slammed his hand on his desk. "It is beneath a Harvard lawyer. Remember that Mr. Moran, before you try to be smart."

John breathed a silent sigh of relief. At least he wasn't the only one. As the lecture began, John felt eyes on him. He glanced up and saw Sherlock still staring at him with half-interest. John looked down quickly, not wanting to be caught staring. But he couldn't help but look back up. Stormy gray eyes remained on him.

After class, John tried to get away before Mary could catch up to him but with everyone crowding the door it was impossible. A perfectly manicured hand landed on his shoulder and he barely managed to fix a smile on his face before he turned around to greet her.

"Mary," John greeted.

"Well that was something, wasn't it?" Mary said with a grin. "He's the best trial lawyer in this part of the country."

"Not for long," An oily voice that John recognized chimed in. Moran sidled up to Mary and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Hey, babe." He was several inches taller than John and obviously very strong. He carried himself like a martial-artist and John sized him up cautiously.

"Not here, Seb," Mary pushed him playfully. "Sebastian Moran, this my friend and old flame, John Watson."

John shook Sebastian's offered hand, the grip just tight enough to remind John who was stronger.

"So this is the famous John Watson. Mary's told me much about you," Sebastian released John's hand. "They really have lowered Harvard's standards, haven't they? I'm just playing with you. See you later."

John raised an eyebrow as he sauntered away.

"A real charmer. Where'd you find that guy, Mary?" John asked, tamping down on his temper. Mary rolled her eyes.

"We went to high school together. His father is a senator." Mary said, as if that explained everything.

"I have to go. I'll see you later," John wanted to leave. Mary waved after him.

"Let's get lunch sometime!" She called after him. John made a vague response in her direction, hurrying to get away.

John tried to always be honest with himself. When Mary had broken up with him in favor of some "time alone", which strangely seemed to include dating several other men, it had hurt. They had been dating since undergraduate freshman year, but the sweet girl that John had asked to prom had slowly been morphing a mean-spirited woman. But all of that John could have handled on this first day of class. What he couldn't take was the fact that he so obviously didn't fit in.

"Is he guilty? Good going, John," He muttered to himself as he worked on an assignment in the library. The computers were much nicer here. "Might as well have just broadcast it to the world: I'm an idiot."

"Do you realize you do that out loud?" A bored, British-tinged voice came from the computer in front of him. Sherlock.

"Sorry, I didn't realize," John blushed. "You're Moriarty's colleague. That clipboard you gave him was blank."

"Yes, thank you. I had forgotten before you reminded me," Sherlock said without breaking eye contact with the computer. "Jim likes to scare the new students."

"Right..." John trailed off. "Does Professor Moriarty always act so...intense?"

"You'll soon find out," Sherlock was still tapping away at his keyboard. "You should cut Mary Morstan out of your life. She's just using you for entertainment."

"What? How did you know about Mary? About my scholarship, too?" John watched Sherlock sigh and meet his eyes for the first time.

"You're clothes are all in good repair but fairly worn, meaning you don't have the money to replace them often and you take care of them properly. Your books are all used, not uncommon but they bear the sticker that shows they came from a common bargain book website and not the school bookstore or eBay. You needed books that were as cheap as possible. Also, your laptop. Shows-"

"Enough, I get it. I look poor," John sighed inwardly. "I know."

"You don't look poor. I was going to say your laptop is a an older model but still in working condition. You're here at the library and the assignment you're working on should take the average student around two hours to complete if they use minimal effort, three if they try. You are nearly finshed if the changing speed of your typing and expressions on your face are anything to go by. It's taken you two hours but you weren't slacking off. Therefore: you 'look poor' as you say, and you finish an assignment that is meant to test the will of the lesser student and break it in record time and two days early. Scholarship."

"That...was amazing," John was dumbstruck, his fingers motionless and still hovering over the keys. Sherlock looked momentarily intrigued.

"Not was I usually hear."

"What do people normally say?" John prodded.

"You're invading my privacy," Sherlock half-smiled. "We are at school full of future lawyers, remember? Now if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do."

"Bye. It was nice talking to you, I guess..." John called after him. Sherlock turned and winked at him over his shoulder.

"Likewise, Mr. Watson."

Then he was gone.

**Review me. What do you think?**


	2. Chapter 2

John rubbed his eyes as the words on the page swam and swirled in front of him. He had been reading about the ins and outs of tort law for the past three hours, after reading about the basic procedures of civil court for several hours before. John was a good student, he knew that. He had worked hard in college to get his undergraduate degree and maintained a 4.0 average for four years. But nothing could have prepared him for the sheer volume of reading that these classes required.

John checked the time in the bottom corner of his laptop. It read well past 3:00 in the morning. John looked around his small room where his roommate was asleep in his bed. He sighed and wished that he could get his mind to shut down long enough to sleep tonight, but as of yet he was still too awake. In this first month of 1L year, John had had a total of 1 written assignments, the one that Sherlock had found him doing in the library, and he was beginning to miss the feeling of "real" homework. At least then he would know how well he was doing in each class. John stood suddenly, no longer able to stay in his seat and feeling claustrophobic, and grabbed his coat on the way out the door. Fall had come early and the nights were brisk.

The air outside smelled fresh compared to his cramped room. The breeze ruffled his hair slightly as he made his way down the sidewalk aimlessly, paying little mind to where he was going. There were few people out tonight, just the occasional student stumbling home after their Friday night outings or walking quickly back from the library to the dorms. John shivered, but not from the cold. A prickling at the back of his neck alerted him that he was being watched, making John speed up his pace. He realized with a mental slap to the face that he was in an area with very little cover and no one was around. He heard footsteps behind him, measured and even.

"A little late for a walk," John relaxed as he recognized the voice. He turned to see Sherlock catching up to him with long strides wearing a long black coat.

"Apparently not," John replied. He hadn't spoken to Sherlock outside of class since the first day in the library, though he had spoken quite a bit in class. Professor Moriarty seemed to have a particular taste for tasking John with dissecting the details of the legal cases they had been assigned as reading.

"You don't go to parties much," Sherlock stated. "You haven't made any friends yet because you feel you don't fit in and if you don't spend every single waking hour of every day studying you're wasting the money that is allowing you to study here."

"You're not much for small talk, are you?" John asked with a half-smile. The two men fell in step with each other, John walking slightly faster to keep up with the tall man.

"Small talk is pointless," Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. "I am merely stating that you have no where else to be right now."

"Yeah..." John waited for an explanation. For awhile, none was forthcoming. He was beginning to think that perhaps Sherlock was just...odd.

"Come with me," Sherlock said suddenly, veering to the left and towards one the campus buildings. For some reason, John found himself following Sherlock, increasing his pace to match the taller man's. They walked in silence for awhile, though it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Rather, John found it nice to simply be with another person after many nights alone.

"So where are we going?" John asked finally. Sherlock stopped walking and pointed in the direction of the building closest to them. John shot Sherlock a confused look. "There? Why?"

"A group of students uses a building in this area as a base of operations to distribute prescription drugs for quite a large profit. The campus police have, unsurprisingly, been unable to pinpoint their exact location or even confirm their existence," Sherlock said, and in the gloom John was pretty sure that he had a smug grin on his face.

"And you have?" John asked, cocking his head to the side. If it hadn't been so dark, maybe John would have seen the way Sherlock blushed.

"Of course, John," Sherlock sniffed. "Now, I need you to go in there and buy something from them so i have proof."

"What?" John took a step back. "No!"

"Quiet!" Sherlock hissed. "I need someone on the inside, and you're the perfect candidate."

"Why?" John whispered.

"You look like you haven't slept a full eight hours in weeks and no one knows who you are," Sherlock said matter-of-factly. "You're the perfect person to play the naive first year student looking for a way to keep up with an overwhelming load of course work."

"Thanks." John retorted sourly. "So what do I do?"

"Hold still," Sherlock reached out and ruffled John's hair and pulled on his jacket to make him look more disheveled. "Just go in there, ask 'Marcus' for the special, and give them this." Sherlock held up a small wad of cash and pushed it into John's jacket pocket.

"Ok, go in, ask for the special, and pay for my illicit drugs with your money," John laughed humorlessly. "Why am I doing this?"

"Because you're bored. Now go!" Sherlock shoved him forward towards the building. John made his way into the building.

Everything was quiet at first when John opened the unlocked doors and made his way inside. He wasn't quite sure what this building was, but he didn't get much a chance to guess.

"Hey. You look a little lost," A female voice rang out. John turned to find a petite blonde standing behind him.

"I don't think so. I'm looking for someone," John answered, surprised at how steady his voice was. "I was told Marcus has what I need."

"Depends on what you need," A male voice said behind him. "I'm Marcus."

"I'm here for the special," John said quickly, wincing as he heard the fakeness in his own voice. He felt cornered though, it wasn't his fault.

"That's unfortunate," Marcus laughed. John had a bad feeling.

"Why?"

"Because the special..." Marcus shrugged. "Is not for _spies_ working for Sherlock Holmes."

John froze. Marcus grinned at him.

"Tell your friend that next time he feels the need to sent a little _runt_ to do his dirty work-" Marcus turned suddenly as campus police stormed in. He and the others were grabbed and handcuffed as other officers went to search the rest of the building.

"John Watson?" One of the officers called, looking at the three people in front of him. John nodded as Marcus and the blonde were led away. "My name is Anderson. Word of advice: next time Sherlock Holmes asks you to do something, don't."

* * *

"Very good, John," Sherlock said later as he and John were walking back to John's dorm. John refused to look at his insistent companion.

"I was handcuffed. I could have gone to jail for trying to buy _you_ drugs!" John practically shouted. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Don't be dramatic. I needed someone to distract the dealers until the police could get there. I had already called them before you even set foot inside the building. I used your phone. Lifted it when I adjusted your coat," Sherlock looked very pleased with himself.

"What? Give me that!" John snatched his phone back from Sherlock's offering hand. They walked in silence, John fuming.

"So, what. I was a...a distraction?" John asked incredulously. "What if the police had decided that I was involved? I could have been expelled!"

"Oh, I wouldn't have let that happen," Sherlock waved his hand vaguely. "The police owe me a favor. Many favors, even if Anderson doesn't like to admit it."

John walked on, trying to ignore the way Sherlock was studying him. He was still feeling the adrenaline from the night, his nerves humming and heart racing. But his hands were steady. And it had given him something to write home about, this tall man that solves crimes at law school. It'd make a good story.

"John," Sherlock sounded unsure for the first time, and John shook himself back to the present. "I am sorry if you feel lied to."

"Tell me something. What's your story? You have a British accent but you don't really sound all that...foreign," John said carefully. "I don't mean to be nosy-"

"Yes you do," Sherlock sighed. "I'm from London, but I was sent to America six years ago because my family wanted to be rid of me. I'm afraid I caused quite a bit of trouble for them."

"No, you? I never would have guessed," John said playfully, smirking at Sherlock's scowl. "It must be hard to be so far away from your family."

Sherlock was silent.

"I mean, my own mom calls me every week. I can't imagine having an entire ocean between us," John mused, lost in his own thoughts.

"They had their reasons," Sherlock said quietly. "Good night John."

"Hey, Sherlock," John called after him. "If you ever need any help again, you know, catching drug dealers or whatever, give me a call."

Sherlock looked shocked, but nodded and turned with his coat swishing behind him. John watched him go for a moment before turning around and going back to his room. As soon as his room's door closed behind him, he was hit with a wave of fatigue. he looked at his softly glowing iHome screen. It was well past five in the morning. John shrugged off his coat and hung it on his chair, ever the neat person. His phone buzzed.

_I took the liberty of entering my number into your phone when I borrowed it.  
-SH_

John smiled warmly. He felt so...alive. For the first time in a long time.

But he was also tired. He climbed into bed without bothering to set an alarm. He figured he had earned a late start the next day.

Five hours later, his phone rang, signaling a text. John rolled over and looked at the screen through bleary eyes.

_I need your help. Come if convenient.  
-SH_

John groaned.

_If inconvenient, come anyways.  
-SH_


End file.
